She opened her mouth.
“No arguments,” he added quickly.
She probably wanted to protest the use of the Lear, but being environmentally conscious was the very least of his concerns at this critical juncture. He’d make a donation to Save the Penguins or some such later, when the fate of his personal life wasn’t hanging in the balance.
“Fine,” she said after a moment’s hesitation.
He could tell from her pursed lips, which were always a dead giveaway, that she didn’t like it, but that was just too bad. There was one more thing—the big thing, the only important thing—that they needed to discuss, a card he needed to lay on the table, and he was anxious to get to it.
“And I’m not going to be nice and stand by and quietly watch you move to another continent.” He paused for maximum effect because there wasn’t going to be any negotiating on this point, and she may as well realize it now. “You know that, don’t you?”
He hadn’t expected a quick agreement this time, and he sure didn’t get one. A shadow darkened her face and it was as unwelcome to him as a castration or lobotomy. He held her gaze, watched her struggle with his pronouncement, until finally she gave her reluctant and unhappy answer.
“I know,” she said.
In the awkward—no, painful—silence that followed, one thing became utterly, undeniably clear to him: she still wasn’t his. His fight was still far from over and, for all he knew, was just beginning. Maybe she would never be fully his and the worst thing about it was that he had no idea what kept Isabella from belonging to him the way he belonged to her.
A shiver ran up and over him, chilling his bare skin and driving away the last of the feverish heat he’d felt in the bed with her, only minutes ago. The magnitude of his problem hit him, making him feel like a thin sheet of ice, brittle and easily shattered.
He was flying blind here and it scared the hell out of him. He was hers and he knew it, but, even though he’d just loved her the best way he knew how, given her every ounce of feeling he had to give, she still wasn’t his.
The knowledge cramped in his gut, sickening him, and he wanted to rage at her, to make her tell him what was really going on—and there was something, he could taste it—but he eased back, forced himself to turn away and continue on to the bathroom.
Tonight was for loving. There was plenty of time for fighting later.
And anyway…nothing made him work harder than a challenge.
“I guess we should get ready for this wedding, huh?” Isabella asked.
Exhausted and sated, glistening with sweat and happier than she’d ever been or could have ever hoped to be, Isabella stroked the rough silk of Eric’s short hair. He lay with his head on her bare breasts, his thumb skimming across her nipples every few seconds and stoking the fire that burned so brightly for him even now, seconds after he’d made her come.
Again.
True to his word, Eric had kept her in bed all night and no actual sleeping was involved. When she’d put her feet on the floor this morning, she felt like a new person.
It was a ridiculous cliché, so trite she was embarrassed to think it, even to herself, but it was true. Eric had worshipped her so thoroughly, touched her so tenderly and listened to her so intently, that she felt like a queen. As though she could climb any mountain, swim any sea, or cure any illness. As though no unhappiness could ever find her, much less touch her, as long as Eric stayed close.
They’d gotten up, driven the last few hours to Jacksonville Beach holding hands but talking very little and arrived at their third hotel together. The second they got up to their room, Eric pulled her into his arms and gave her a kiss so feverish, so desperate, that she wondered how they’d managed to keep their hands off each other while in the SUV and, worse, how she could possibly put half the world between them when the time came for her to fly to Johannesburg.
And even though they’d made love all night and she was sore and they were running late for the wedding, they tumbled to the bed and made love again because she was addicted to him.
But now it really was time to get dressed.
Groaning, he raised his head, one heavy brow quirked. “What wedding?”
“The wedding,” she said, palming his face because she needed to touch him at all times, “that is the reason we drove to Florida in the first place.”
A wicked smile inched across his face and tied her stomach in the kind of delicious knots she didn’t ever think she’d get used to. “I thought we came down to Florida to make love, Iz,” he murmured.
She flushed until even the ends of her hair felt like they were glowing. Repressing her simpering grin was impossible. “That’s only the side benefit.”
His killer grin widened. “Helluva benefit.”
Knowing they’d never get out of bed—ever—if they continued like this, she decided to ignore his commentary. “Do you want to shower first, or should I?”
“We can’t share?” He gave her a bewildered look, all wide-eyed innocence. “Think of all the polar bears we’ll kill with two showers instead of one.”
As if she’d say no to an activity that let her help save the environment while spending naked time with Eric. Please. “Come on.”
They lingered in the shower and raced through the reapplication of clothes—white linen pants and tunic for him, fluttery yellow flowered sundress—her favorite because it was so bright and cheerful—for her. Isabella threw on Zeus’s little black tie and grabbed the leash and then they were off.
They made it downstairs, through the lobby and out the hotel’s back doors to the enormous seaside deck just ahead of the first bridesmaids. The pianist was striking up the first notes of Luther Vandross’s “Here and Now” when they settled Zeus under a shady palm tree and ducked into the last row of white folding chairs on the bride’s side of the aisle.
Isabella took a minute to enjoy the balmy breeze and tang of salt in the air. There were probably more beautiful settings for a wedding, but none came to mind. Up front, against the backdrop of the white sand, rolling sapphire waves and aqua sky, stood an arch covered with pink and white roses, and more explosions of roses edged the seating area and aisle.
The anxious-looking groom, his attendants and the minister, all very handsome in their white suits, waited under the arch, and the air hummed with the excitement of waiting.
Isabella’s body, on the other hand, hummed with the thrill of Eric’s attention. She arranged the filmy skirt of her dress and pretended she didn’t feel the heat of Eric’s gaze on her face and bare legs or the warmth of his adoration shining in his eyes. If she looked at him now, with her heart so full and light, she would…she would…
“Isabella,” he said on a sigh so quiet she doubted she’d really heard it.
The stroke of his fingers across the base of her neck derailed her thoughts and renewed the quiver deep in her belly. A bolt of intense pleasure shot through her, as stunning as an orgasm but somehow more devastating because of his unspeakable tenderness.
She tried to pay attention to the proceedings. The smiling bridesmaids, most of whom were classmates of theirs from Princeton, filed by in their pink slip dresses and tried to look dignified and not squeal when they spotted Isabella and Eric. Next came the little flower girl and ring-bearer—Isabella had no idea whose children they were, but they were adorable—and then, finally, came Terri.
The glowing bride glided down the aisle in a white slip dress and short veil, her feet barely touching the path strewn with rose petals. When she made it to Frank, the groom, he took her hand and kissed it. The two of them giggled like children on the playground and then turned to the minister, who grinned indulgently and opened his prayer book.
The ceremony was quick, easy and casual, not much more than the vows and a song or two. It was over almost before it had started, and then Terri and Frank were rushing back up the aisle in a shower of pink and white flower petals.
Cheering and laughing, the crowd followed them to the p
ool area, which was decorated with ten or twelve candlelit tables set for dinner. Isabella was still laughing when she and Eric found a quiet spot near the rail and waited for their friends to catch up with them.
“That was sooo beautiful!” Feeling very effusive and emotional, Isabella stared out at the water and brushed her hair back out of her face. “I was a little worried about it raining or sand blowing or something, but I really think that was one of the—”
“I’m in love with you,” Eric said.
Isabella gasped and whipped her head back around to stare at Eric, her hand frozen by her ear, not at all certain he’d said what she thought she’d heard.
But the second she looked at him, she knew. His face had acquired a ruddy flush that she didn’t think had anything to do with the sun, and he looked utterly serious and utterly vulnerable, as though he didn’t want to be in love with her, much less tell her about it, but just couldn’t stop the words from coming.
Oh, my God, she thought, feeling miserable and ecstatic and every variation in between all at the same time. Oh, my God.
When she said nothing, he took one step closer and smoothed that flyaway curl behind her ear for her. Then, with absolute attention, he trailed his fingers across her cheek, down her neck, and across the tops of her heaving breasts. Still she couldn’t move. Finally his gaze flickered back up to her face and she saw the hint of moisture in his crystal brown eyes and heard the depths of his emotion in the hoarse whisper of his voice.
“You’re everything to me, and I can’t…I can’t breathe with wanting you so much.” He paused and pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. “I didn’t mean to tell you like this, and I don’t know why it happened or how it happened so quickly and I know you’re not ready to hear it, but, yeah…”
Overcome, he paused to clear his throat.
“I’m in love with you, Isabella.”
Chapter 15
Once the initial euphoria of telling Isabella how he felt had subsided a little, Eric’s heart fell with the kind of sickening thud that made people reach for the phone to call 9-1-1. Her expression wasn’t the I love you, too, Eric look he’d foolishly been hoping for, and her ongoing speechlessness could only be attributed to one thing: horror.
Stupid idiot. Why did he tell her? Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Well, he knew why. It was because he did love her. Probably always had on some subconscious level that he was only now recognizing.
In seventeen years he hadn’t made a major decision, suffered a loss or defeat, or celebrated an emotional high without sharing it with Isabella. For his entire adult life he’d relied on her common sense, wisdom and humor. He’d needed her smiles, advice and presence, needed her reaction to events in his life so he’d know how he should react. She’d been the first person he called when he got into business school, the first person he told when he became CEO, the first person he consulted for advice when his parents drove him crazy.
She was his touchstone, his rock. Had been since college.
So yeah, he loved her. Wanted her. Needed her. Would marry her, if she only said the word, and to hell with his fears about marriage and disaster going hand in hand. With Isabella as his wife, he couldn’t fail.
But…it didn’t look like she’d be agreeing to marriage anytime soon.
The moment stretched between them, bypassing awkward and heading straight for excruciating. He was just beginning to wonder if he should launch himself over the rail and hope the fall to the beach below was enough to at least knock him unconscious for a couple of hours, when the bride distracted them.
Terri, newly married and floating with happiness, had picked this moment to play the gracious hostess. Lucky him. Back at Princeton she’d been the biggest yakker on campus and Eric thought it was pretty unlikely that the years had changed her any.
Not picking up on any social cues whatsoever despite his desperate subliminal message—We’re talking here!—she shrieked and opened her arms.
“Eric! Izzy! Oh, my GOD, I can’t BELIEVE it’s you!”
Yeah, Eric thought. Still a yakker.
He cringed but at this point there was no avoiding her or any of their other friends and they had, after all, come to the wedding to give the happy couple their best wishes. So he dredged up a painful smile, submitted to the woman’s hug and kissed her cheek.
“Here’s the beautiful bride. How are you, Terri?”
“Well, one of the caterers bumped into the cake and smashed one side of the bottom layer, but they covered it up with some flowers. Oh, and my cousin’s flight got delayed—weather out of Chicago, can you believe it?—so I think she’s sitting on the tarmac somewhere. But I’m fine other than that—” here she paused long enough to pull free of Eric, take a deep breath and hug Izzy, who still looked shell-shocked “—and you two look GREAT! Wasn’t the wedding BEAUTIFUL? Could we have PICKED a better day?”
Isabella finally recovered her voice although she now had two enormous patches of color on her cheeks. “It’s so good to see you. You look gorgeous. I’m so happy for you.”
“And YOU!” Terri snagged Isabella’s hand with her left one and Eric’s with her right. Taking one step back, she surveyed them like a proud matchmaker. “Finally got together, didn’t you? I KNEW it! I saw you during the ceremony!”
If and when he and Izzy got married, Eric thought, the last thing he’d be doing would be watching the guests in the pews to see who was getting with whom.
“Well,” Isabella began uncomfortably.
“Did you finally put away your playa’s handbook, Eric?” Terri winked at him.
Eric wondered if it would be wrong to wring a bride’s neck on her wedding day.
“I don’t want to hear anything about you stepping out on this girl, okay?” Terri asked. “You know what? I’ll be expecting some VERY GOOD NEWS from you VERY SOON.”
Terri looked over her shoulder to signal Frank, who was greeting other guests a few feet away. Dropping Isabella’s hand, Terri flapped her arm at her husband, looking like half a bird trying to take flight. “Frank? FRANK!”
Poor Frank, Eric thought. If the brother was having second thoughts about spending the rest of his life with this black Edith Bunker, it was too late now. But Frank just smiled happily and hurried over to his wife’s side.
“These two finally got together, Frank.” Terri angled her face for Frank’s kiss, the epitome of newlywed bliss. “I’m betting they’re going to be the next ones to get married. Izzy, you stand right up front when I throw the bouquet, OKAY? I’m throwing it RIGHT to you, for luck.”
“Good idea,” Eric murmured on impulse, serious. “Throw it to Izzy.”
Astonished silence surrounded him on all sides.
He didn’t know what had made him say it and at this point it didn’t matter. All he knew was that if he was in for a penny he was in for a pound, so why not raise the stakes? He wanted Isabella. Wanted all of her and wanted her for the rest of their lives. Why stammer and hedge?
Three surprised gazes swung around to look at him, but Isabella’s was the only one he saw. She looked flushed and stunned—breathless. Most of all she looked unhappy, and that almost killed him.
But it didn’t deter him.
He would get to the bottom of her issue. Come hell or high water he would figure it out and nothing would keep him from her. Not South Africa, his unfortunate Warner legacy of unhappy marriages nor Izzy’s own fears.
Nothing.
Satisfied that he had Isabella’s attention and had put her on notice, Eric realized that he was hungry and thirsty. Goodness knew he needed to keep his strength up to deal with the fight to come. Looking around, he found the bar in one far corner of the deck and saw that it was fully stocked. Thank goodness.
“Champagne anyone?” he asked, walking off. “I’m parched.”
The reception passed in a blur of crab cakes, mahi-mahi and mango chutney something-or-other, none of which Isabella tasted even though she put it all in her mouth.
>
All she knew was that someone—probably Eric—steered her to their table, sat her in the chair in front of the place card with her name on it and pointed her to a fork. After that she ate blindly and mindlessly, made lame small talk with the couples on either side and tried not to stare across the table at Eric.
At the first possible opportunity, just as the servers were clearing the dinner plates, she fell back on one of her favorite excuses—walking the dog—left the table, and took Zeus down to the beach where she could think.
Leaving her strappy stilettos at the bottom of the steps from the deck, she walked along the water’s edge and watched the pink sunset, too upset even to stop Zeus from splashing in the waves and ruining his little bow tie with the salt and spray.
Eric was in love with her. Eric had hinted that…he wanted to marry her.
And she’d never been more terrified in her life.
Her emotions had developed multiple personalities on her, wavering between devastation and elation with devastation winning by a mile. Because she could never marry—not anyone and especially not Eric—and now she would have to tell Eric why. Once she did, she would lose his love. It was inevitable.
To her surprise, there were a lot of doubts she didn’t have; somewhere along the way, probably after his absolute tenderness and worship last night, her fears had evaporated. He said he loved her and she believed him.
Maybe she was just flat-out stupid—Eric wasn’t exactly the ideal candidate for a long-term, monogamous relationship, after all—but she took him at his word. There had been too much adoration in his eyes and his touch for the last few days, too much emotion for her to doubt his feelings.
True, he’d never been in love before, but so what?
That didn’t mean he couldn’t love now.
She, on the other hand, had been in love, or what she’d thought was love, twice before, and she’d been wrong. No other experience in her life, no relationship, no lover, compared in any way to her feelings about Eric. There wasn’t even a close second.
Road to Seduction (Kimani Romance) Page 15